


HSO BR Fills

by astrologicallyDubious (ruination_fangs)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Homestuck Shipping Olympics, M/M, Multi, otp: rose/spades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruination_fangs/pseuds/astrologicallyDubious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HSO 2012 bonus round fills, including (but not limited to) a zombie apocalypse, two assholes bickering in an airport, and a haunted house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vriska <3 Kanaya

**Author's Note:**

> I am the best at creative titles. It's me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [BR1 Prompt: Vriska<3Kanaya, zombie apocalypse + road trip](http://hs-olympics.dreamwidth.org/13513.html?thread=1673161#cmt1673161)

“Jeeeeeeeez, Kanaya, could you drive any slower?”  
  
“I assure you this is as fast as this land-based transportation vehicle will go.”  
  
Still, Vriska clicks her fingernails impatiently against the frame of the passenger door, occasionally leaning out the window to look behind you. Her hair whips around her face in the wind, tangling around her horns and glasses, and it’s both distracting and distressing.  
  
“Would you please keep your appendages inside,” you request.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Your fidgeting is not going to do us any good, whether or not they catch up to us.”  
  
She rolls her eyes, flipping her hair out of her face, but actually does as you ask, at least for a while. “Yeah, it’s not like your fussing is helping either! Fussing and meddling, even during a zombie apocalypse. What did I expect.”  
  
Minutes pass and you don’t slow down. Luckily the road is fairly straight here, and abandoned this far from any cities. The open fields on either side of the highway give you an excellent view, which Vriska is checking out nonstop even while “keeping still.”  
  
It’s cold with the window down, and you’re constantly struck with the urge to roll it up, but the button won’t do anything; the glass was shattered before you got out of town. Still, you’re lucky the casualty list is so short. It had been a close call; by the time Vriska kicked down your door and dragged you bodily out of your hive with nothing but the clothes on your back and the lipstick in your pocket, your now-undead neighbors had nearly taken the car. Luckily, you carry a chainsaw at all times.  
  
“How long does this road go oooooooon?” Vriska complains.  
  
“It shouldn’t be long before we reach the city, I believe.” She seems satisfied with this, and you ask, “Why, may I ask, are you so eager to get there?”  
  
“Because I want something to happen! What is this, nap time? There are zombies outside! This begs action!”  
  
“A strange disposition, to prefer fighting for one’s life among hordes of the undead to a peaceful drive through the countryside on a nice night.”  
  
She scoffs, but the way she looks at you out of the corner of her eyes gives her away. “D’you really think the zombies will be here too?”  
  
“I doubt it’s an isolated incident.” You flex your hands against the wheel and motion with your head to the control panel. “Try the radio again.”  
  
Glad for something to do with her restless hands, Vriska flips through all the stations, but finds nothing but static. Just as you thought. She sits back in her seat with a huff, crosses her arms over her chest, looks out the window, and says in a voice just a little too faux-casual, “So what are we gonna do?”  
  
You consider. “We may not be able to formulate a plan until we can see the state of the city, but I suspect it will be all we can do to find food and clothing and continue on our way.” Once again you regret that you weren’t better prepared; your best clothes still hang in your closet, all your sewing projects probably destroyed by now and your gardens trampled. What a terrible waste.  
  
Vriska looks at you. “You mean we’re just going to keep driving? It’s almost sunrise.”  
  
“If we stay in the car we should be fine. Your renowned fighting prowess aside, I don’t think even you can take on an entire city alone.”  
  
“Who says I can’t? But anyway, I’m not alone, I’ve got you!”  
  
You open your mouth to reply and then shut it again. She looks away and goes quiet.  
  
Then she’s back to her usual self. “But okay, I getcha! It’ll be like a road trip. We’ll switch off driving. Don’t worry, I can go all day.”  
  
You’re watching the road of course, but from the corner of your eye you can still see her wink at you, and she grins wider when your face flushes.  
  
It’s not long before you can see the city on the horizon, and you can tell even from this distance that something is wrong. There’s almost no traffic, even for this time of night, and it looks awfully dark. You slow the car down and Vriska pulls her dice out of her pocket, looking ready to fling open her door already.  
  
“All right, bring it! Let’s paint this town rainbows!”  
  
The streets are eerily deserted as you enter; you hope it’s because the better part of the populace has fled rather than been taken. Doors hang open, broken vehicles lay abandoned, and here and there splashes of blood color the roads and lawns.   
  
You stop the car outside a supplies shop with its windows shattered. With the motor still running, you put your hand on the door and take a breath.  
  
“Ready?” Vriska gives you a grin so confident you almost believe you’re about to embark on a run-of-the-mill shopping excursion rather than a zombie-fighting store-raiding expedition.   
  
At once you throw open your doors, grab your weapons, and enter the shop, Vriska choosing to jump through the jagged window frame rather than follow you through the entryway. Inside there are packaged food items lying in disarray, a sizable amount of them ripped open (particularly in the meat department). But no zombies.  
  
Vriska tosses her dice up and down in her hand a few times. “…Huh. This is kind of disappointing.”  
  
For once you agree. You turn your chainsaw off and move to pick up some bags of preservable rations. In a few minutes you’ve collected enough food to last you at least a few more days (and you only had to steer Vriska away from useless junk food twice).  
  
“Let’s take this to the car,” you suggest, doing your best to hoist half the bags. “If all goes well we can gather extra clothing and be gone before sunrise without incident.”  
  
“You mean if all goes boring.” Vriska snorts, but collects the rest of the bags.  
  
…Only to drop them as soon as she steps outside. “Awwwwwwww yeah!” she says over the sound of cracking jars, and slams her foot into the face of a very close, very zombified troll right beside the door.  
  
You jump out behind her with your chainsaw revving and make short work of the sluggish bodies approaching from the other side. Blue and orange blood splashes on your clothes; you cringe but press forward, clearing the sidewalk and gaining enough time for you to toss your bags into the car. Vriska is right behind you, throwing everything in the back seat and whooping as she punches a troll in the nose.  
  
Your second run is harder now that the zombies have found you; one of you has to protect the other while she gathers blankets and clothing. At first it’s Vriska, rolling her dice and gleefully distributing kicks to the gut, but when she notices you hesitating over some clothes, she pushes you in front of her and begins to pick up the fabrics herself, throwing them haphazardly into a basket.  
  
“You don’t have time to compare styles now, Fussyfangs!” she says as you barely pull out your chainsaw in time to mow down two new threats.  
  
“I was only attempting to find the pieces in suitable condition for wearing,” you tell her with a hint of irritation.  
  
She’s oblivious to it. “It won’t kill you to wear something with a rip in it! You can show some skin, you know.”  
  
You have no response to that and spend a few more minutes in silence while Vriska darts around, heaping up as much as she can feasibly carry. Keeping the zombies away from her isn’t as difficult as it is tedious; while fierce if you let them close enough, they’re rather slow and… well, braindead. Their fangs are no match for your chainsaw, which is by now covered in a spectrum of blood.  
  
“All right, let’s blow this joint!” she finally says, hauling the basket into her arms. You slash your way back to the door, but find it blocked by a seemingly-endless stream of new bodies.  
  
Behind you Vriska has dropped the basket and is taking out trolls and left and right. “Hey, what’s the hold up, Kanaya? Things are getting a little tight back here!” She sounds more impatient than worried, but you can hear that she’s a bit short of breath.  
  
You grit your teeth as claws scratch your arm and turn to take out a zombie that got a little too close. “We can’t progress any further like this.”  
  
Suddenly Vriska is at your back, grinning. “Sounds like we need a bigger exit! And with a little luck…” She tosses her dice at the wall and watches them spin to a stop. “…we’ll have one!”  
  
Then she’s dragging you backwards, kneeing down the nearest troll while an explosion rocks the building. Before the smoke clears she’s out the gaping hole that is now the storefront with the basket; coughing, you follow.  
  
The blast knocked the undead crowd back far enough for you to get to the car, but by the time Vriska gets everything into the backseat the wave has caught up to you. Teeth clamp down on Vriska’s upper arm; she thrusts her elbow into the attacker’s stomach, but it’s undeterred. Too close to use your chainsaw, you punch the zombie in the face, ripping its fangs from Vriska’s skin, and drag it away.  
  
Once you’ve cleared enough room around the car to breathe, you immediately turn to the still-open door, but before you can get in, Vriska laughs triumphantly, slings an arm around your shoulders, and kisses you. She’s still smirking, and you’re still staring, as she slips into the driver’s seat.  
  
“Well don’t just stand there, we’ve got a getaway to make!”  
  
You start and scramble to the passenger side; before you’ve so much as shut the door, Vriska’s foot is on the pedal and the car is lurching bumpily down the street. Both of you flinch as an unsuspecting zombie goes flying over the windshield, and then the road is practically clear. You pick up speed quickly and are almost out of town by the time the sun peeks over the horizon.  
  
You sigh deeply, beginning to relax despite the scratches and blood on your skin, and Vriska lets out a cheer. “That. Was. So. COOOOOOOOL.”  
  
“That’s not the first adjective that came to mind, but… yes, it was rather impressive.”  
  
Vriska laughs again, and you can’t help but smile, thinking that you’re safe for now. The sun is coming up, but you’ve enough experience with sunlight to know you’ll be okay in the car until you can stop somewhere shaded. At least, it’s a good thing Vriska is so excited, because it looks like it’s going to be a long trip.


	2. Rose <3< Eridan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [BR1 Prompt: Rose♠Eridan, unreliable narrator + college AU](http://hs-olympics.dreamwidth.org/13513.html?thread=2361033#cmt2361033)

I got no idea how Rose Lalonde ended up in my History of Troll-Human Relations class, but it was the best and worst thing to ever goddamn happen to me.  
  
The first thing you gotta know about Rose Lalonde is that she’s a total bitch. Sweepin into the place like she knows everything, usin words to make her sound like a fuckin thesaurus, all like, “Yes Dr. Scratch, human-troll interaction dates back to the beginning of documented history, in ancient trollian societies that recorded allegiances with a species of intelligent, non-troll bipeds...” or, “Actually Dr. Scratch, recent neurological studies of humans and trolls have discovered remarkable similarities between the centers of the brain that interpret emotion, offering new theories that humans can understand troll quadrants on a deeper level than at first suspected...” blah blah fuckin blah.  
  
The second thing you gotta know about Rose Lalonde is that she likes fuckin with people’s heads, most of all mine. Ya can’t ever get a straight answer out of her, everything’s psychology this and philosophy that, like she’s made a rhetorical questions and downright acidic sarcasm.  
  
See, Troll-Human History is the class where Fef sits across from me, and I can see Lalonde there on the other side a the room, smirkin about some private joke. She never smiles, just smirks in this godawful pretentious way like she’s privy to all the secrets in your head and thinks they’re a fuckin riot.  
  
So when we go to lunch after class she brings it up like she’s talkin about the weather, sayin, “Peixes definitely seems to regard you as nothing more than a conciliatory partner. I would advise you not to attempt a quadrant flip with her.” Like she got any place bargin into my life talkin to me about my other quadrants. Not like I can even rib her back about her own cause the secretive witch won’t tell me who her matesprit is, even though I know she got one.  
  
“Fuck you,” I tell her of course, “you don’t know jack shit bout Fef and I so keep your nose stuck in your musty ol’ books and out a my business.”  
  
And she smirks and I can’t decide which I wanna do more, rip her goddamn lips off or kiss them. Least til she says, “She’s got her eyes on Captor. At least once a week I see her outside the computer lab waiting for the class he TAs to finish.”  
  
I scowl at her over my tuna sandwich and ask, “Why ya ewen tellin me this?” If there’s one thing Rose Lalonde ain’t it’s stupid, and she makes sure everyone goddamn knows it, but I swear to god sometimes she puts her psychology shit above proper quadrant etiquette.  
  
“To keep your quadrants stable. Or to bother you. Take your pick.”  
  
“Right so you’re just lordin it ower my head, like usual, ta ruin my life. Thanks a lot, witch.”  
  
Rose sips her tea. “Your theatrics are so unnecessary. It’s grating.”  
  
“Yeah, so’s that constant dronin you call a woice. Whattaya ewen talk about all the time, wizards and shit? I mean what a goddamn waste, someone a your status and refined manner writin about ‘occult forces’ and ‘dark magic’ or whatewer fuckin rubbish you’re into.”  
  
“Yes, yes, I know, it’s an embarrassment to science and faker than fake.”  
  
I agree of course cause those may be the truest words she ever spoke, an she rolls her eyes like she always does when she thinks I’m too stupid to catch on to her sarcasm.  
  
Well I proved who’s not stupid when I got a B out a Scratch’s class, and the bitch just smirked and actually patted me on the head, which was more condescension than even I expected. Said somethin about how her tutelage might make a scholar outta me yet. No doubt she got a A cause Scratch is basically in love with her an her writing, goddamn teacher’s pet.  
  
Classes got over and we had to IM most of the summer once we went home, but a month before classes started again I received a package containin a full set a the Harry Potter books and a note:  
  
“Happy six-month.  
  
Stop lying to yourself about hating wizards.  
  
<3< Rose”  
  
That night I used only the purest sciences to build a bonfire in my backyard and burned every single one a those books of fraudulent magics.  
  
I’m tellin ya, we got a good thing goin here, an I don’t think it’ll be over anytime soon.


	3. John <3 Rose <3< Dave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [BR1 Prompt: John♥Rose♠Dave, workplace romance + slice of life](http://hs-olympics.dreamwidth.org/13513.html?thread=2007497#cmt2007497)

An hour or two after lunch, John Egbert finds himself without much work to do and (unsurprisingly) wanders over to the shared office of Rose Lalonde and Dave Strider.  
  
Dave happens (unsurprisingly) to be absent. John sits in Rose's chair, swiveling back and forth idly, as she rummages through one of her file cabinets for some old paper she needs to reference.  
  
“So when’s this report due?” He flips through a stack of papers next to her computer -– meeting minutes, a newspaper, another file, some trashy romance novel that, yeah, is definitely unrelated to anything she’s working on.  
  
Shutting the cabinet drawer, she says, “Oh, not for a few days.”  
  
“No rush then?”  
  
“None at all.” She drops the file on her stack and moves to sit on his lap, sliding her arms over his shoulders and grinning down at him.  
  
He wraps one arm around her waist and runs his other hand through her hair. "So you'd be free to go out to dinner tonight?"  
  
"Most certainly."  
  
She leans in to kiss him then, and that's exactly how Dave Strider finds them (unsurprisingly) seven minutes later when he enters his office.  
  
"Oh god dammit."  
  
Neither of them so much as opens an eye to look at him; he sits down heavily in his chair, throwing his meeting notes onto his desk, back-to-back with Rose's. Luckily their computers tend to make their working spaces fairly separate, but Dave can still see them.  
  
"Hey. Romeo and Juliet. This environment ain't exactly conducive to working. Don't make me get all Office Standards Contract on your asses. Pretty sure it says in Article Twenty-Six Subsection Who-The-Hell-Knows that sloppy makeouts are strictly prohibited and punishable by a stapler to the head."  
  
Rose extracts a hand from the collar of John's shirt to flip Dave off, and he frowns, leaning forward to cup his chin in his hands. "All righty then, carry on children. Enjoy sucking face secure in the knowledge that I'm right here. Watching you. Same as every other fucking day. Like some sick voyeur who gets off on dorky office workers kissing in terribly inappropriate places. In fact, hey, if it's getting off you want, I--"  
  
Finally John pulls away, looks (still a little dazed) at Dave, and says, "Ew, dude, that's gross."  
  
Dave leans back and picks up a pen. "Yeah,  _dude_ , look who's talking."  
  
Coughing lightly but with no hint of shame, Rose slides off John's lap and opens the file she recently retrieved. "John, I need a photocopy of this page. Would you mind?"  
  
"Yeah sure, no problem," he says, standing up and taking the page. He adjusts his tie slightly and Dave rolls his eyes at the way John and Rose smile at each other before John leaves.  
  
Once the door shuts the room is silent. Rose flips through the file again, closes it, and moves to half-lean against, half-sit on the only uncluttered part of her desk, at the end. "Are you sure you're not mad just because you wish you could be in John's place?"  
  
"Really, Lalonde? Playing the jealousy card? There ain't nothing Egbert has that I want."  
  
She raises an eyebrow, telltale precursor to what is sure to become a lot of psychoanalysis bullshit that Dave doesn't care about, and he stands up to move next to her.  
  
"You're not thinking about switching quadrants on me, are you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Good, because your mushy, lovey-dovey stuff with Egbert makes me want to throw up. This shit's black."   
  
She smirks and runs a hand up his neck, fingernails leaving faint white marks on his skin. "Just the way I like it."  
  
"You goddamn player." Dave reaches up to remove her hand. "Got a matesprit and a kismesis in the same office. Didn't anyone ever tell you dating your co-workers is trouble?"  
  
"Fuck the rules," she says, and leans up towards him, but then pulls away before their lips meet.  
  
Dave scowls and Rose throws him a smirk over her shoulder as she saunters back to her computer. "Fuckin' tease," he mutters. "What, afraid your boyfriend's gonna walk in on us again?"  
  
"Jealous  _and_  bitter. You continually find new ways to make me loathe you."  
  
"Damn straight, I am so on top of my game. Most hateable bastard this side of the watercooler. None of you chumps can even come close to my level of assholery, but you're just enough of a hypocritical, manipulative bitch that you'll have to do."  
  
Dave falls back into his chair, rolling it along the floor just far enough that he can stare at Rose around his computer. She snorts and goes back to work.  
  
When John comes back, Dave is tapping his pen against the side of his desk in a steady rhythm. Rose thanks John for the copy, still warm, and says, "I believe I have two options here. I can either break the pen in two and drive it into his ears, or find an online recording of the hoarse, demonic chanting used to summon Fluthulu and play it full volume."  
  
"Option three," John suggests, "come work in my office so nobody gets killed or fired today."  
  
Rose shrugs, gathers her files, and takes John's hand as he walks back to the door.  
  
"'Work' my ass," Dave mutters, and Rose winks at him before they leave.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll be back to  _work_  with you too, dear."


	4. Beta OT4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [BR1 Prompt: John<3Rose<3Dave<3Jade, romantic comedy + ghost story](http://hs-olympics.dreamwidth.org/13513.html?thread=1669577#cmt1669577)

Only a few weeks after moving into their new home, John is announcing that the place is haunted and Jade is starting to believe him.  
  
There's a night that John and Dave are engrossed in some new video game, laughing and shouting obscenities at each other, when Rose heads off to bed; soon Jade joins her in Rose's room, falling asleep cuddled up next to her before the hall lights go off.  
  
They're woken up by a crash somewhere above them, like something heavy dropped onto the floor. Rose opens her eyes and whispers to Jade, "Did you hear that?"  
  
There's another loud noise before Jade wakes up, untangling herself from Rose and looking at the ceiling. "Is it coming from the attic?"  
  
For a minute it's quiet. Then the floor above them creaks slowly, to the pace of careful footsteps, and the hair on Jade's arm rises.  
  
"What... is that?" Jade asks.  
  
Rose hesitates. "...It's probably just an animal that got in somehow." But she looks doubtful as pulls Jade back down to the bed, and Jade is awake for quite a while thinking about how large an animal would have to be to put that much pressure on the floorboards.  
  
She's almost forgotten the incident when, a few nights later, she sits up in her own bed at a steady thumping sound coming from somewhere else in the house.  
  
"Dave, what's that noise?" she asks.  
  
Next to her, Dave groans and shuts his eyes tighter. "I don't know."  
  
The thumping stops, but before a minute passes something metallic is rattling above them.  
  
"Are those... chains?" Jade whispers. "Why would there be chains here?"  
  
"It's probably just John and Rose watching some dumb horror movie," Dave mutters. "Go back to sleep."  
  
Jade says quietly, "I'm pretty sure John and Rose already went to bed..." but Dave doesn't respond. A few minutes later the noises stop and Jade lies back down.  
  
When she brings it up the next morning, John and Rose look at each other and say they were asleep by then. But they both confess to have heard some strange things over the past few weeks, and John reports that more than once his glasses have disappeared from his nightstand while he slept. Even Dave, snorting at all mentions of "friendly poltergeists" John puts forward, can't deny that sometimes the wires of his music system are disconnected or switched around when he enters their downstairs studio, and the pieces Jade uses to build her gadgets tend to disappear from her basement workshop and show up in odd places around the house over the next few days.  
  
But for all that Dave cries bullshit, John is absolutely convinced that the house is haunted. He stays awake late one night in Jade's room, refusing to sleep until he sees a ghost; she falls asleep next to him, and the next thing she knows he's shaking her awake and whispering something about voices.  
  
John is still wearing his glasses as if he hasn't laid down at all and, sure enough, there's some sort of low, indiscernable murmuring coming from somewhere nearby. He looks fascinated, and Jade can't help but share his enthusiasm. If John is right and these are actual ghosts it could be a remarkable scientific discovery!  
  
The noise stops and then another, slightly different "voice" sounds for a few seconds. John and Jade don't speak until it stops for good a few minutes later.  
  
"Do you think it was actually ghosts?" Jade asks.  
  
John grins, excited. "I'm sure of it," he says, and the next morning finally convinces everyone to accompany him on a ghost hunt to the attic.  
  
By the time the sun sets Dave still thinks the idea is stupid, and he rolls his eyes at John in his Ghostbusters outfit talking animatedly to Jade about whether the ghosts will talk to them.  
  
John leads the way to the attic with a flashlight in hand. The old floorboards creak, the air smells musty, and Jade nearly sneezes from the dust they stir up.  
  
Once everyone is up the ladder-like stairs, they stop and John shines the light around the room slowly. "Hello?" he calls, but nothing answers. They're surrounded by old wooden chests and cardboard boxes with holes in them, and an old window near the rafters is so dirty Jade can't even see out of it.  
  
"Maybe they're scared of us?" Jade asks.  
  
"Maybe they think this is dumb," Dave says, and they can practically hear him rolling his eyes.  
  
John turns around to face the others. "Well then you'd have something in common! You try talking to them, maybe they only talk to coolkids."  
  
Dave just stares at him, but no one speaks, and eventually he sighs. "All right, 'ghosts,' I'm granting you an exclusive one-on-one interview with the Big Man himself. Here I am, taking time out of my outrageously busy schedule to come see you, so if you got something to say you better speak now or forever rest in peace."  
  
Practically the moment he's done speaking, John's flashlight flickers and goes out, and a high-pitched creaking noise sounds from somewhere close to them. Despite her earlier assurance that tonight would be an exciting scientific venture and nothing to be afraid of, Jade reaches out for Dave's arm, which is a little too tense to be chill.  
  
"Wait, hold on, I think I've got it," John says, fumbling with the flashlight, and Jade shuts her eyes in the ensuing light.  
  
When she opens them, her brain takes a moment to recognize that, yes, that is a human-sized, pale white shape in front of her, and yes it is moving, and at once Dave and Jade jump backwards, clinging to each other and screaming.  
  
But the shape doesn't move any further, just ripples slightly, and that laughing isn't spooky or eerie at all -- it's John and Rose, who, Jade can barely see by the quivering glow of the flashlight, are nearly doubled over in laughter.  
  
John leans back against the wall and slides to the floor. "Oh my god Dave, you scream like a girl."  
  
"You know what, fuck you. Fuck you both."  
  
As Jade looks around now, she begins to see the signs -- the pulley system rigged up in the rafters that holds the fake ghost; the dust disrupted in places, clear indications that someone has been up here recently; a flashlight stowed away behind an old trunk.  
  
Rose composes herself just enough to say, "The spirits of the house are angry with you for keeping them awake until three in the morning with your sick beats. They thought you should know."  
  
"You know what I think you should know?" Dave says, then flips her off and leaves.  
  
He admits to Jade later that night it actually was a pretty good prank, even if John and Rose are jackasses for pulling it and he's not going to spend the night with either of them for the next two weeks as "punishment."  
  
Jade just snuggles closer to him. It may not be haunted, but at least life in this house will never be boring.


	5. Rose <3< Vriska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [BR4 Prompt: Are You Satisfied? + Oh No! + Do You Want To Fight Me?](http://hs-olympics.dreamwidth.org/19337.html?thread=3091081#cmt3091081)

You’ve always said that one universe isn’t big enough for two Heroes of Light, and Rose Lalonde is reinforcing that notion every time you talk to her. Her favorite pastime seems to be telling you how to live your life – or rather just hinting it in barbed comments designed to get under your skin, a passive kind of venom but venom all the same.

She has a habit of glancing you over as if she’s appraising something and then dismissing you in the same heartbeat; just Vriska, a wreck of sharp angles and brittle skin and bad choices. As if she’s any better.

She diagnoses you with no end of human disorders, saying you have a pathological need to prove your own agency, a need to be in control. If you’re not winning you’re losing and it’s damaging to your mental health. You have no scruples with throwing relationships and morality under the bus for the sake of your own pride and success and instant gratification, always treating your symptoms and never your diseases. You say at least you’re not  _8oring_  and she shakes her head and says no, but she’s satisfied with her life, and are you?

It’s no business of hers if you sometimes feel like you've fucked yourself over and she has no goddamn right to know how you feel.

She tells you offhandedly, condescendingly, that gambling and drinking and lying for no reason except rebelliousness is going to kill you someday, as if she’s Seen it. What a bunch of hoofbeastshit, you know she doesn’t See things like that. (You've got Vision Eightfold and somehow she still manages to lord her sight over you. Lalondian pretension at its finest, and by finest you mean rip-your-hair-out worst.)

But whenever you remind her that you have  _all_  the luck and that you’ll damn well steal hers too if she doesn’t fuck off, she smirks in the most demeaning “I’ve already got you figured out” way possible and walks away. 

When you take her bait and fight back she shrugs and says you’re not really angry at her, you’re just determined to defy authority and rage against whatever logic doesn't suit you, running yourself up against a brick wall like always. All your bruises come from your own reckless actions no matter how you attempt to shift the blame.

Oh she’s wrong, you’re angry at her.

And you tell her just that, jabbing fingers like knives at her chest and flinging pointed words the way she knew you would (god _damn_  her for always being right). And of course she fails to react, so you grab her by the front of her shirt, and ball your other hand into a fist so tight your rough-edged fingernails bite into your palm, and kiss her.

You’re momentarily satisfied when she freezes up,  _didn’t_  See  _that coming did you bitch_ , and then moderately appalled when you feel her fingernails dig into the back of your neck with obvious malice before she even begins to kiss back. You give her lip a retaliatory bite before pulling away and spitting, “You’re vicious. For a human.”

Her grin is sweet and overwhelmingly insincere. “You wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

You guess there is room for two Heroes of Light, maybe. But you're not going to make it easy for each other.


	6. Dirk/Roxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [BR4 Prompt: Crooked Teeth + Bruises + Starlight](http://hs-olympics.dreamwidth.org/19337.html?thread=3142281#cmt3142281)

A long time ago, Roxy decided to give up on her crush on Jake. You remember thinking first that you had a better chance now, second that you're some kind of asshole for thinking that first. Roxy is a good friend and sometimes you take that for granted.  
  
She apparently thought so too, because after months of laughing things off and saying she didn't have a shot anyway, she told you (with more typos than usual) that she was sick of Jane going on about Jake and sick of your "stoic mainpain *manpain" and sick of everyone whining about their crush never thinking of them as more than a friend, when  _all of you_  do the same thing to her!  
  
You guess you hadn't really planned for that in all your calculations, but she signed off before you could ask if that meant what you were pretty sure it meant.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
You can tell when Roxy's been drinking,  _really_  drinking, by how much she stumbles. When she's buzzed and typing carelessly to give the impression that she's smashed, she's still far too sharp-minded to fool you. It's when she starts slurring her words and bumping into things that you get worried.  
  
The bruise just below her knee is from the coffee table, and the scrape on her shin is from one of those metal windows she keeps around for her "projects," and the sore on her elbow is from the edge of her desk. You raid her freezer for bags of frozen vegetables and hashbrowns to wrap in a thin towel and press on her injuries until her skin is numb.  
  
That's why she drinks, she says, because it's numbing. After a while you kind of just forget your problems.  
  
You know that's not entirely true, she drinks because she can get away with it, but you look around her room at her plush toys and video games and cat sleeping on her pillow and Ms. Lalonde's award-winning books on her shelves, and then at the way she looks at you when she doesn’t think you’re looking, and you know what problems she means.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
It's too hot in the middle of summer to go out in the middle of the day, but you and Roxy do anyway. You keep to the afternoon shadows of buildings and stretch out beneath a tree in the park. Lying on your back in the grass, you can barely see the sky through the branches.  
  
Beside you, Roxy texts Jake and gives you the blow-by-blow. In the silence between messages you ask her how she got over him. She laughs and says you shouldn't be thinking about that, you've still got a chance, but you just want to know, so she tells you it's easier to stop focusing on someone when you've got someone else by your side.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Roxy is the first one to inform you that Jane and Jake are dating. Beyond the sting of neither of them bothering to tell you (more likely neither of them knowing how) is a duller ache that comes with a lack of surprise. Everyone knew it was going to happen sooner or later.  
  
So Roxy helps you deal with it the only way she knows how. The speed at which she procures a fake ID for you is impressive (and might be a little alarming if it wasn't Roxy) and by the end of the night you're leaning on each other as you stumble home.  
  
Her place is closer than yours and you know your bro won't miss you. She passes out on her bed in the same clothes she's worn all day; you lie next to her on top of the covers, staring out the window, grappling with various -aches and thinking about that day months ago under the tree.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
In the end you decide that the only thing that really matters is that everyone is happy.  
  
Jake continues to be a good friend, and it hurts for a while, but you think it's worth it to see him smiling and laughing when he sends you pictures of his "grand old adventures!!" with his girlfriend.  
  
Jane gives you some very apologetic looks at first but you flash her a thumbs up and an unspoken promise that things won't be awkward because of this. You know she's wanted this for a long time and she deserves a happy ending as much as anyone.  
  
And Roxy -- Roxy whispers something in Jane's ear that makes Jane blush and shoves her back toward her boyfriend, and then gives you a very indiscreet wink. You realize that it's been a long time since you've heard her pining over anyone; Roxy found her peace before any of you.  
  
You think maybe now she can teach you to do the same.


	7. Sollux <3 Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [BR5 Prompt: Sollux<3Karkat, in the airport during a layover](http://hs-olympics.dreamwidth.org/20726.html?thread=3358966#cmt3358966)

"Can we just sit the fuck down already? We've got to be on the wrong side of the airport by now," Karkat growls from behind you. You continue to walk, scouring the walls and floors and pillars between the seats.  
  
"We're only a few gateth away. And not until we find an outlet, my laptop needth to charge."  
  
"Who gives a shit about your laptop,  _I_  need to charge. I can't remember the last time I slept. While you were passed out and drooling like a barkbeast on sopor that disgusting human wiggler was kicking the back of my seat for almost the entirety of that thousand-sweep flight."  
  
When you stop, Karkat runs into your back and grunts, rubbing at his nose.  
  
"Jethuth Chritht, KK, shut up. I found an outlet."  
  
You kneel down to pull the power cord out of your shoulder bag and Karkat flops into the nearest chair, letting his backpack fall at his feet. You settle into the seat next to him with your computer.  
  
"What's it going to be, another five fucking hours?" Karkat grumbles, leaning toward you to look at your screen, even though it's still turning on. "This is the shittiest place to spend all afternoon. The food is expensive as all fuck and tastes like processed grubloaf to boot, and the seats are basically rocks with minimal padding, and all these noisy grubfuckers and their constant droning announcements make it impossible to sit back, take a deep whiff of the stale, sweaty air, and relax."  
  
"We could leave," you suggest, searching for a wi-fi signal. "There'th probably thome nithe rethtaurantth outthide the airport. Hell, we could get a hotel tho you can get your beauty thleep, god knowth you need it. But we'll have to come back thoon."  
  
"Oh hell no, I would rather sit in this airport for the rest of my pitifully short lifespan, build a nice home here, eat at Burger Emperor every day, raise a family, die of fuel fume intake, and be buried beneath the souvenir shop than go through security again. You are a walking alarm. TSA probably breaks down sobbing whenever they see you coming. 'Hold on, jutht let me remove my laptop, and my PDA, and my watch, and my iPod, and' you know what, why don't you just take off all your goddamn clothes and run through the scanners naked so we all know you're not a walking bomb."  
  
You sip the coffee you got as soon as you were off the plane. "Nah, you're the only one who would apprethiate the view. Bethideth, I  _am_  a walking bomb, I could hijack the airplane with jutht my brain and they can't confithcate that."  
  
"Sollux Captor, scourge of the fucking skies. You are a terror to travel with, you know that?" Karkat leans his head against you and squirms, trying not to dig his cheek into your bony shoulder. "Well, no, I guess past-me was the bulgelicker getting into idiotic arguments with the flight attendants, so you're just the most abominable shitstain for putting up with me."  
  
"Jutht go to thleep, KK." You pat his hand, resting on his knee.  
  
Karkat's other hand reaches up to grab yours and, all complaints aside, it looks like he's already drifting off. "If you don't wake me up and we miss our flight, you're not going to live to see California," he mumbles.  
  
"I'll wake you up when we thtart boarding."  
  
It's kind of hard to type with one hand, but you don't let go.


End file.
